She learned to wash and dry her own laundry. I breathed a sigh of relief at having a couple less loads to do.

She washed and dried the sweater. We both cried.

A summer went by. And a fall.

Now, on the cusp of our 'winter' I decided to try wet blocking it to see if it would 'un-felt' a bit and return to at least a little of it's former beauty and fit.

I soaked it in cool water. I squeezed the excess out. I rolled it in a towel and stood on it to press out the last of the water. Normal procedure. Nothing new.

I unwrapped the soggy towel, I looked at the sweater--same size as before all the soaking and squeezing.

So I took a sleeve and stretched and stretched again. Then stretched the other direction, all the way to the cuff. Then the other sleeve. Then the back and the fronts. Slowly, her sweater--the one I'd spent hours knitting and caring for--began to show itself out of the felted fibers. The lace panels once again opened up and the stitches showed definition.

As I was pinning it to the blocking mats, I began to think about how I often 'felt' things in my life. How I take over a job I'm ill-equipped to perform because someone has to do it. How I oh-so-often do things without really giving them my full attention. How, when I 'felt' things in my life, God has to reach down and make things uncomfortable in order to stretch me back into shape. How, if I would simply keep my eyes on Him, focus on the tasks He sets before me, and give thanks in all things (even the laundry piles of life) I wouldn't need so much 're-shaping' in this life.

I Thessalonians 5:16-18

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.